asecelle
by Elendraug
Summary: breathe into my hands. [ femmeslash. eiko garnet. AU. ]


final fantasy ix. eiko/garnet. AU futurefic. PG. characters belong to square-enix.

**asecelle**

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Madain Sari is lonelier than ever.

Garnet sits atop a low overhang, surrounded by craggy wasteland and endless dust. The sun sets, its light filtering dimly through hazy clouds of lingering, decade-old mist. Off in the distance, she'd swear she hears _that song_, transposed into some dismal minor key and echoing mockingly in her mind.

The world has gone to ruin, and there's nothing she can do about it.

She rests her head in her hands, idly rubbing the spot where her surrogate mother arranged for hasty surgery years ago. Even now, she's unsure of what to call her true home. Alexandria always had been, and probably always will be, but some nagging part of her still longs for this place. This decaying place, abandoned by people and worn weary by time...

The ocean stretches into forever, its grey depths melting into the reddish-brown sky. There's something inherently wrong with that, she thinks.

Gradually approaching footsteps; Eiko sits quietly beside her, her simple presence enough reassurance for now. Garnet doesn't know what to do. No spell, no summon, no solution; nothing can bring him back.

Two summoners, alone in their forgotten birthplace: Eiko takes Garnet's hand gently, and presses a soft kiss to her cheek. She's sure that if the air wasn't so dry, she would've tasted traces of residual salt.

Everything is still.

Queen Garnet sits atop a low overhang, and wants nothing more than to be Dagger again.

* * *

Her voice sounds hollow and empty now. 

Since his death, she's taken to talking to herself, insecure and incoherent mumbling that sends eerie whispers resounding in the castle's hallways. Eiko brushes the Queen's hair -- hair that, she imagines, would be tangled and matted beyond repair if the Queen herself was the one taking care of it -- and muses that it's not unlike the Desert Palace incident. This time, however, she's seemingly unable to _stop_ speaking, and the destroyed subject is far beyond a city's inevitable repair.

Candles barely illuminate the room. In the mirror, their reflections look more like lonely ghosts, flickering silhouettes and nothing tangible. There must be a crack in the castle somewhere; drops of water occasionally fall to the stone floor.

Eiko sets the brush down on the lacquered nightstand. Sliding her arms around the sitting Queen's shoulders, she stands in utter silence.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Garnet's muttering does not cease.

* * *

It's been two years since the Regent passed away; Hilda left long ago. 

The Lady Eiko can still hear grumbled comments regarding her adoption, bloodlines, inheritance, _what right does she have_ and _who does she think she is_ and _bastard, unwanted, feral child_. She goes about her business, hosts meetings with the nobles and neighboring city-states' leaders (more have been founded since the end of the Mist Age; Dali is now prosperous and industrialized; the chocobos are gone).

She meets with the Queen of Alexandria.

There are ever more rumors.

* * *

She remembers this bed. 

She remembers airships.

She remembers doves.

* * *

"I didn't think he'd actually 'stop.'" 

"..."

"Maybe I just didn't want to think about it."

"..."

Eiko runs her fingers along the smudged glass and its frame.

"You still have his cards."

"..."

"...I'm so sorry."

* * *

His dagger lies somewhere in the tangled, petrified carcass of the Iifa Tree.

* * *

Rain falls lightly to the grey-green moat. Garnet lets her legs swing over the water, shoes skimming the surface every once in a while. General Beatrix' soldiers guard her resolutely; Captain Steiner's knights keep watch faithfully. 

She still feels helplessly vulnerable.

Garnet stares at the horizon; Eiko watches her eyes go glassy.

There have been no plays in the last year. Whether she's simply not in the mood for such lively entertainment to take place in her home, or whether she can't bear to make small-talk with his Tantalus brothers, Eiko's not sure. It's been a long while since Alexandria has had any contact with Lindblum's favorite theatre troupe.

Baku finally stopped writing.

* * *

Eiko finds her curled up on a bed, the gigantic mattress and heavy, draping canopy threatening to consume her; she's small and fragile in comparison. Garnet clutches a tattered coat to her chest, its fabric frayed and falling apart. 

Tufts of age-and-sunlight-bleached fur cling to the clothing.

She wonders if it still smells of him.

* * *

"I could make you breakfast, if you'd like." 

"Oh... Thank you. You don't have to."

"It's not a problem."

"If you're sure. I appreciate it."

"What about eggs? Would you like that? Maybe some vegetables. A glass of water..."

"...I'm not hungry."

* * *

The overcast sky is white and pale, as if with imaginary snow. 

Garnet lies motionless in her bed, her gaze following the clouds' paths as they drift by outside her window. The curtains are calm; there is no wind to rustle them. It feels as though years have passed since she honestly wanted to do anything at all. In a way, it's absolutely true.

Eiko stands in the doorway, and watches over her as she wastes away.

* * *

The daffodils are beautiful. 

Only recently did Garnet resume spending time in the gardens. For too long they'd been left untended, ignored, all the plants withered and dead and decaying. Now she takes solace in caring for the new life, raking her fingers through sun-warmed soil, sprinkling water for the seedlings to 'drink.'

She fondly pets the soft, springy blades of grass.

Eiko sneaks up behind her, and presents her with a glass rose she bought in the city. It reminds her of General Beatrix, reminds her of the castle, reminds her of this moment.

Garnet smiles for the first time in forever.

* * *

Somehow, Garnet's mustered enough energy to shove her way through the bustling crowd, laughing as Eiko drags her from shop to shop, street to street. Upbeat music and excited chatter fill the air. She runs past tiny glimpses into other people's lives -- three children trading Tetra Master cards, an innkeeper hanging a sign, an obviously drunken man waving happily to any and all passersby. 

_This_, she thinks. _This is what I've been missing._ Eiko looks back at her and grins, squeezing her hand just a little tighter.

He wouldn't want her to be miserable.

* * *

The cool, silk Treno sheets smell of specialty soap imported from Daguerreo. Comfortable beneath the covers, Eiko strokes Garnet's hair reassuringly as they doze. 

An autumn breeze carries the scent of someone outside cooking rich, savory food. Leaves float along, lifted and scattered playfully by the updrafts. Despite the chill, they're safe and warm. Safe from harm. Deliberately ignoring the world can bring bliss, too.

Eiko dreams of songs, summoners, and sand.

Garnet simply sleeps.

* * *

Alexandria's throne has no heir. 

The townsfolk are talking again.

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--- elendraug (at) yahoo . com

10/01/2006


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